


Family Ties

by gentlearmor



Series: Canon FFXV [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Violence, Evolving Tags, Gen, No Beta, Not every chapter will have the same warnings, idk their names so i got creative, kid prompto, what is even happening anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlearmor/pseuds/gentlearmor
Summary: What's in a family?A lot and a lot of nothing, it seems.





	1. Escalation [Prompto]

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this will stand alone, or if I will do something like I did with Learning Curves.
> 
> I just wanted to write Prompto with his parents, to develop parents who clearly gave Prompto money and clothes and the like, but at the same time had no problem being gone all the time, even when he was about to leave Insomnia.
> 
> The subject of domestic violence is in this chapter, as processed by a little boy a room or two away from it.

“Prompto! Dinner!”

“Coming!”

It was always a big deal when either of the Argentum parents were home, but even more so when _both_ were home. Prompto’s day immediately brightened when they were there. Maybe they weren’t the best parents, but they were all he had, so it made the little boy happy whenever he had them. They tried very hard, and they made sure he never went without, even if he went without them.

As the ten-year-old hurried out of his bedroom as fast as he could, his father was seated at the dining room table, working on his smartphone and leaning back in his seat. He noticed the blond headed over and said, “I’m impressed with how clean you’ve kept the house, Prompto.”

His father was a stoic man, with black hair and olive colored skin, and golden-brown eyes that carried a slant that wasn’t unlike Prince Noctis’s. He always wore fine suits, and was almost always on his phone or computer during the day and early evening. Prompto knew he didn’t look like him, which made the news that he was adopted a bit easier to swallow when he was five.

“I’m sorry that the carpets weren’t vacuumed, sir,” Prompto apologized, bowing once he reached the table. “I was gonna after school, but mom was already home when I got here…”

“It’s fine.” Ater Argentum looked back to his phone. “She didn’t seem perturbed. I do want to talk to you about your schoolwork, however.”

Prompto frowned and straightened, going to crawl up into his seat, which was typically on the long side that had him facing the sliding doors to the backyard, leaving his parents seated at the ends on each side. He said nothing while he was seated, staring at his hands.

“I’m told you’ve gotten a 65 in math, and 67 in history,” Ater said. He paid no mind as Prompto’s adoptive mother, Caera Argentum, carried out dishes from the kitchen. “Your mother received the call about this while she was in her last meeting yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto said softly. “I’ve been… busy.”

“With what?” Caera asked as she finally had a seat, once all serving dishes were laid out for the boys to self-serve.

While the warm woman had dark blonde hair, and her eyes green, her skin tone and eye shape were very similar Ater. Prompto didn’t know their lineage, but he learned at school that that meant that someone Caera was related to came from the same place Ater’s family came from. He thought that was pretty cool. He was too young, and there were too many refugees in Insomnia, to understand that that was a typical appearance native to Insomnia itself.

“Well, mm…” The boy hesitated, and his adoptive father sighed.

“Don’t tell me it’s your pictures.”

“No! No. I don’t do that except when going to school and coming home, dad, I promise!” Prompto said quickly, eyes wide. He didn’t want his camera to be taken away because they thought it was a distraction!

“Then what is it?” Caera pushed.

Prompto squeezed his hands together tightly. “Um. I’ve… you know. I’ve started exercising.”

The two adults looked across to each other, surprise on their faces, before focusing back on him. “Really?” Ater asked.

“Yes, sir,” Prompto replied, squirming in his seat a bit. “It’s really hard, b-but I’m tryin’ to eat salads and stuff, and I try to go running once a day. On Sundays, I go two times.”

“So, that’s why all those veggies were in the fridge,” Caera said, looking at Ater. “I thought he got a bunch heaped on by the neighborhood ladies during the harvest.”

“I did, but I’m eating them,” Prompto interjected, his cheeks turning a bright red. It felt as though he was having his privacy invaded, in a way. He didn’t want attention with what he was doing.

“Well, Prompto, that’s very good of you,” Ater said, pulling his eyes off Caera. “The younger you get healthy, the happier you’ll be as you get older. But we can’t have your grades slipping. You know we don’t expect you to be perfect, but you need to be in the seventies or higher. How long do you go running for, and when do you go?”

“Um, only about twenty minutes. I go after I eat dinner.”

“Go before dinner,” Ater directed. “Work up an appetite, so you can eat and work on studying at the same time. And that way you’re not feeling too tired to do anything else once you’re done. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, sir,” Prompto said, eyes wide at the support.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a week… it’s really hard, though…”

“Then you need to cut down,” Caera directed then, smiling softly despite the direct language she used. “Instead of twenty, cut down to ten. Don’t run the whole time if you can’t. Spend a minute walking, the next minute power walking, then jog for six minutes, then power walk and normal walk each one minute.”

“You’ll need to write that down for him,” Ater remarked.

“I will, Ater,” she replied, staring at him briefly, before looking back to Prompto. “You need to warm your body up, and allow it to cool off. It means watching the clock a lot more, but you’ll feel much better.”

“Okay, mom,” Prompto acknowledged.

“I’ll write it down for you, don’t worry.”

Prompto smiled at both of them. While he’d gotten some pointers from boys at school that were in the track club, it was nice to get advice from his very fit parents. Really nice. “Thank you,” he said, relieved. “I promise to work hard.”

“Work smart, not hard,” Ater educated while Caera helped Prompto set up his plate. When he noticed the little boy’s confused look, he decided to elaborate. “Working hard leads to dangerous practices. Working smart means you learn where you are going to go, and you make a plan to get there efficiently and successfully. Working hard means people feel compelled to participate in things like cram school, which will burn a child out in no time. Working smart means that if you know you’ll truly benefit from things like cram school, only then will you participate in it, and if you know that you won’t be able to do that, or that you won’t be a perfect student with perfect grades, you do whatever you have to to reach your personal top.”

“Oh…” Prompto looked at his plate once his napkin was neatly spread on his lap. “…does that mean you don’t think I can be the perfect student…?”

“Well—”

“You’re an artistic, sensitive boy,” Caera interrupted Ater, smiling to Prompto. “All we’re saying is that if you start focusing on things like your photography, so long as you make certain to pass all your classes, we’ll hardly be cross with you.”

Prompto smiled at that and nodded. “Okay.” That made sense to the little boy, and made it feel like he had control over his life. Even though he technically already did, due to their constant and prolonged absences. All he wanted was their approval. “Thank you, mom, dad.”

“Of course, Prompto,” Ater replied. His tone was a bit distracted as he was staring at Caera when Prompto looked at him, his expression colder than normal.

Prompto frowned and looked to his food when he saw that. It was best to just remain silent when the room became stiff with silent contention, and it was best to eat quickly. So eat, Prompto did, both his parents silent as well, and as soon as he was finished, he asked to be excused. Permission was granted, and the little boy quickly took his dishes and silverware to the kitchen, and then hurried to his room. It was a short trek. Although his parents made good money, their home was humble, as though the intention was always to have a single person living there.

“I’m gonna do my homework!” he said as he hurried along, through and out of the dining room.

There was no response.

Honestly, it was better that way, because Prompto knew that atmosphere. He knew it better than he really could admit at that age.

It was heavy and hostile, and so long as he stayed in his room when his father started his late-night drinking, he wouldn’t have to worry. His parents being away all the time was a gift, in some ways, even if Prompto didn’t see it that way all the time.

They were nice to him, if not increasingly distant as he got older, and they were always insistent that he didn’t need good grades in things like science or math, but to follow what he wanted to do, so long as his grades stayed up.

While the time they spent together gradually decreased through the years, when they were around, they were so nice, until the monster came out in Ater.

The monster smelled after liquor, and got angry and violent over small things, even when they happened before the monster arrived. The monster would stay away from him so long as he stayed away from it, which he did the best he could after learning that lesson when he was seven. Caera wasn’t able to escape so easily.

Screams broke out about an hour later. Accusations hurdled at her that a ten-year-old simply didn’t understand, and then screaming of how she interrupted him at dinner. Prompto tried to cover his ears to block it out, wearing headphones and listening to music that was just loud enough that he would hear if they came closer.

As long as the screaming of words continued, the monster was contained by them. When words ceased, but screaming continued, that meant the monster was unleashed, and his mother would show the wounds of the monster in the days to follow, although Prompto rarely saw them beyond a glimpse before his parents left to go their separate ways for their jobs again, to be away for days, even weeks, at a time.

The screams that night held words for several hours, before abruptly shifting to only her screaming without words. Something broke, likely in the kitchen. Prompto did his best to focus on his schoolwork, and then his pictures, and then a game on his phone, the headphones never being removed.

It was only after silence fell over the house that he was approached, and it was in the form of a heavy knock on his door that made his heart leap into his throat.

The door would stop the monster. The door always stopped the monster. What it couldn’t see, it wouldn’t touch.

“Prompto—” Ater slurred as he hit the door in intervals. “Go clean the kitchen.”

“I’m almost done with my math homework!” Prompto called, lying. “Is it okay if I finish it first?”

 _‘Please be okay with it’_ , he thought to himself.

“Fine. I left—I left money for you on the table,” Ater replied, struggling with his words. “I’m goin’ t’sleep.”

His parents always gave him a great allowance, and they would pay him to clean things outside of normal house maintenance. It was how he could afford to eat however he wanted when he was alone, though a small box under his bed acted like a safe deposit box, half of whatever he was given placed in there to save up for nice things like video games and a new camera.

“Goodnight, dad,” Prompto called while staring at the door in fear that that night, the monster would learn how to use doors. Fortunately, the monster seemed to always forget how doors worked unless it was chasing someone already in its sights.

Silence fell and continued after that, and Prompto waited until midnight—a whole hour—before he crept out of his room to go see what had to be cleaned in the kitchen.

On the dining room table, a hefty payment for a boy his age was strewn about clumsily, clearly thrown at its surface without care. The monster likely pulled whatever was in Ater’s wallet and thrown it at the table, paying for the child’s silence. It worked, of course, but not because of the money itself. The monster was in Ater, but it wasn’t Ater himself. Prompto didn’t want to lose the only people who loved him.

After the cash was stored into his back pocket, he proceeded to the kitchen, and he frowned. A glass jar normally seated atop the refrigerator, container sourdough, had been knocked off and shattered across the kitchen floor. Red liquid covered the front of the refrigerator, with an indentation as though someone slammed into it with enough force to break their skin open. Some of that blood had gotten onto the loose sourdough, rendering every part of it as unsalvageable.

Prompto sighed quietly. It would take so long to clean up the monster’s destruction, as he was still an unfit child and it took a lot of energy, and he wondered where his mother was and if she was okay. He couldn’t really piece together exactly what happened, not at that age, but he knew the monster hurt her.

It was all so unfair. He wished that his father would keep the monster away and protect them, as was his job. However, the only conclusion after that night would be a new refrigerator, and a replacement for the lost sourdough, and no mention of what happened again.

After taking time to wiping a few rogue tears off his eyes, Prompto adjusted his glasses and went off to find the tools he’d need to clean the kitchen.

It would take hours for the little boy to clean… but at least the monster inside Ater had gone to sleep with him.


	2. The Talk [Gladiolus]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarus Amicitia has The Talk with Iris and Gladiolus, but it's not The Talk you're thinking it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is a case of I don't know if I'll continue this, but it seems like I will be since I was already waffling about Prompto's being the only.
> 
> No warnings apply here.

“Gladiolus! Iris! Come down here, please!”

The bedroom doors of the two Amicitia siblings opened, and they both peeked out and to the stairs leading down, before looking at one another.

“What do you think he wants…?” the 9-year-old Iris asked, eyes wide.

“I dunno. You do anything you weren’t supposed to?” her 17-year-old brother asked as he stepped into the hall and went over to hold out his hand to her.

“No, I’m not you,” Iris retorted through rapid giggling. She took his hand gladly, though.

Gladiolus laughed and pulled Iris along tenderly as he walked to go find their father. Iris was a funny little thing as she got older. Gladio was glad that the two of them had so many years between them, because it meant that they very rarely had actual fights. He was sure that, as she got older, she would find reason to be mad when he tried to protect her from terrible boys and the like, but the only time they ever fought up to that point was if he ate something she had been saving for later, not realizing it was hers.

Down the stairs, they hit the second story of the Amicitia house, and Gladio called out, “Where are you, dad?”

“Study!” Clarus Amicitia replied from the first floor.

They descended the second set of stairs, and after a bit of walking in the massive house that was certainly befitting nobles of their caliber, they made it to Clarus’s study, where he was seated in an armchair near the bay window there, reading a book. Gladio walked Iris to, and helped her take a seat in the chair across from their father, before leaning on the back of it to await why they were summoned.

“I wanted to have a talk with you two,” Clarus advised as he put a bookmark in to save his place, and set the book on an end table next to his seat. “Gladiolus, you and I have had this discussion in the past, but I feel Iris is old enough now to have this discussion, as well.”

“Ooh,” Iris acknowledged, wide-eyed. Since she didn’t get much a chance to be included in ‘grown-up’ discussions, she was incredibly interested in getting included for once.

“But first, how are things going with Prince Noctis, son?”

“Very well,” Gladio replied. “I wish I could have more time to train him, because his homework and his tutors take up most his time after school, but when I do get him, he’s been improving a lot.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Does he seem to enjoy your company?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s important for a King to be friends with his or her Shield,” Clarus said, approving. “The King relies on us to be willing and able to throw ourselves in front of incoming danger. Even though the King can fight, he shouldn’t have to.”

“Or she!” Iris interjected, earning a soft laugh from Clarus.

“Or she.” Satisfied, Iris stayed quiet to listen. “With the world is as it is, I want to speak to you both about the risks of my being King Regis’s Shield. There could come a time that the Wall isn’t enough to protect us from the world at large, and I may have to protect him, at the cost of my own life.”

Iris’s wide-eyed interest faltered a bit, although Gladio stayed unreadable, but attentive. Yes, he’d had that conversation before. It was an uncomfortable one for a child, but it was a necessary one.

“We are Amicitias,” Clarus continued. “Continuing to press forward, in the face of adversity and tragedy, is in our blood. Ever standing to fight to protect those to whom we are assigned and those who cannot protect themselves.” He leaned forward, focusing on Iris’s face, as worry appeared and her shoulders sagged. “I know it’s not something you want to hear, but I never wish to see a child of mine locked up and unable to protect him or herself because grief has blinded them. Do you understand?”

Iris nodded, although she was speechless and looking doubtful.

“Press ever onward,” Clarus went on. “Should the day come that I depart sooner than should be, take comfort in the safety and protection of your brother. His job is important and may one day take him far away from you, but it’s important to know he’s always there for you, little Iris.”

“I understand… but…” She hesitated, though no judgment or cutoff came from either her father or her brother as she looked between them. “Will I ever be able to protect Gladio?”

Gladio smiled a bit at that. As much as he hated the ‘In the event of my death’ conversation, he knew it was necessary, and the younger, the better.

“Maybe when you’re older, I’ll start training you, too,” he said. “But you can’t wear cute things if you train to fight, you know.”

Iris made a face at that. A girly-girl at heart, that didn’t sound nice. “That’s not fair. There are cute exercise clothes!”

“But exercise clothes aren’t what we use, you know. We wear practice gear and clothes meant to help us. You ever see Monica wear something pink and girly?”

Iris huffed at that, seemingly setting her mind on trying to figure out a balance between cute and efficient. Gladio would welcome her to take on that task, and said, “I have training with Noct tomorrow night. How about you come with and you can see what we do there?”

“Okay! It’d be nice to see Prince Noctis.”

“He’ll be your king one day,” Clarus said then, looking between them both. “Being there for him, even when he isn’t training, will do him a world of good. He needs to know that he will enter that position with a strong foundation made of the people around him. The Amicitia family has served as part of that foundation for generations. I know it can seem hard, with how… tempestuous his personality can be, but be patient, be unrelenting in reminding him that you’re both there. Look forward, not back, no matter what it is that you might lose along the way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio acknowledged.

“Yes, dad,” Iris replied as she nodded. She was back to looking a bit stricken, but she was always trying to be as strong as her brother was in more dramatic situations.

“Very good.” Clarus pulled his cell phone for a moment, to check the immediate notifications, and then tucked it away and smiled to his children. “Now, would you two like to go out for dinner?”

“Yes!” Iris said quickly, excitedly.

“Yeah, that sounds nice, if you’re free,” Gladio replied. Despite the words he used, there was no passive aggression in his tone. Clarus was a busy man, and Gladio understood that. Serving as Shield to a king was worlds different than shielding the Heir Apparent.

“Excellent. I’ll go get the car. Gladio, help Iris get ready to go out,” their father directed as he stood and swept off for the door out.

“Yes, sir,” Gladio acknowledged. He walked around to Iris’s side, holding his hand out for her again. She took his hand, but made a face at him, which had him leaning down to whisper, “Don’t worry. I know you’re big enough to do that yourself. We’ll just say I helped, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered back, visibly relieved.

“Dads sometimes just always think their daughters are forever six years old,” he explained as he started to walk her back for upstairs, and once he was sure Clarus was out of earshot. “He’ll probably keep asking me to help you get ready even when you’re an adult. It’s second nature.”

“But he thinks I’m old enough to have that talk?” Iris questioned.

“That’s a moment of fatherhood clarity,” Gladio joked. “He’s an old man. He’ll have his ups and downs.”

That made Iris giggle loudly. “Okay.”

“Just don’t tell him I told you,” Gladio warned. “He’ll get mad and then I’ll have to flush you.”

“Gladdy!” Iris whine-laughed, pushing at his leg with her free hand. “You can’t flush me! I won’t fit!”

“I think you underestimate the determination of a big brother willing to flush his baby sister.”

“Gladdyyy!” Iris scream-laughed, pushing at him again. “I’ll bite you!”

“Whatever will my knees do?” Gladio asked, prompting more laughter from his little sister.

Really, he was glad there was such an age difference between them. He was smart enough and old enough to have been there, done that, and to actually protect her if she ran into trouble. He also knew he was lucky that Iris had severe hero worship when it came to her big brother, and that she had him wrapped around her little finger alongside their father.

“Do you think I can learn how to use a sword one day?” Iris asked.

“When you turn eighteen, perhaps.”

“Then what’ll you teach me before then?” she asked, sagging in disappointment.

“Ways for you to use your size to your advantage.”

“How do you know I’ll always be small?!”

“I don’t, but you’ll always be smaller than me, and if you take after mom, you’re gonna be smaller than most people,” Gladio said. “We won’t know until you’re like… almost eighteen.” Girls stopped growing sooner than boys, but he didn’t want to discount the possibility of Iris getting a very sudden growth spurt.

“Is it just because I’m a girl…?” Iris asked, still sagging.

Gladio glanced down to study the disappointed body language of his sister. Sighing a bit, he stopped walking and turned to her, going to sit on a knee. “No. I taught Noct the same way when he was still small,” he said. “I know he’s always been bigger than you, but for a boy, he’s always been on the smaller side. The best offensive for little ones is a good defense. Someone who might want to hurt you won’t expect you to know how to defend yourself. I’ll have Monica come in to help you, too. She’s small, too, so she would know how to best teach you where I might not. But I also know that girls are stronger in different areas than boys, and they’re better at different things than boys.”

“What do you mean? Like how I like pink and you don’t?”

“Well… something like that.” Gladio reached up and gently tapped her forehead. “Boys are stronger, usually, while girls are more agile. Boys are faster, but girls are more clever. You’re also a kid. You may decide you don’t like fighting and combat in a few years. So, instead of wasting your time with something you might never care about again after a while, I’ll teach you how to protect yourself. Then, when you turn eighteen, if you still wanna learn how to fight, I’ll teach you. I bet Noct and Iggy would like to teach you, too.”

“…is there anything I’m better at as a girl?” Iris asked, swaying a little and frowning.

It was becoming abundantly clear that Iris was hearing Gladio say she wasn’t as good as boys, and that wasn’t at all what he was saying. Equal but different was probably too much for her at that age. “Girls are stronger from the waist on down,” he decided to say. “Since girls become moms, they have to be super strong. And since boys are supposed to protect moms, we have to be extra strong from the waist up so we can carry those moms and protect them with weapons. That’s not to say girls can’t fight, because you’ve seen the girls in the Crownsguard, and the girls that are Glaives, but I’m just telling you why. Training you identical to Noct will do you no favors. Give me time, and I’ll think of something. Okay?”

Iris watched her big brother, skepticism all over her face or a good half a minute, before she gave a confident nod. “Okay, Gladdy,” she said.

“Good.” He went to straighten and take hold of her hand once again. “Let’s get a move on then.”

“Yes!”

He really did love his family. Even with the loss of their mother, they held it together well, and he was proud to have the family he did, even beyond the legacy of the Shield.


	3. Stranger, Mother [Ignis]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene during which Ignis Scientia entertains a guest, his rarely seen mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tmw you accidentally stumble onto an actual plot.
> 
> Anyway, since so little is known about Ignis outside of his interaction with Noctis, I took liberties.
> 
> This is vaguely shorter from the first two, just because of the aforementioned tmw.
> 
> There are no applicable warnings here.

“I didn’t think it snowed here in Insomnia.”

“It does, just not as often in Tenebrae, as I’ve heard.”

Pausing from his stirring a pot of sauce, 17-year-old Ignis Scientia looked across his apartment to the balcony doors, where an older woman stood, gazing out at the white city. “It’s beautiful,” she commented, her accent bearing the same as Ignis’s. “Do you ever spend time to enjoy it?”

“I’m afraid as Prince Noctis grows older, my time to appreciate the weather dwindles,” Ignis replied, before looking back his work. “It’s only because of your visit that I requested time off from my duties.”

“The prince was alright with that?”

“He welcomed it. On more than one occasion, he’s let it known that I’m a bit ‘oppressive’ in my presence. This will give him the opportunity to eat nothing but takeout and the like for a whole week.”

“You really should mind yourself and how you speak of the heir of Lucis’s throne,” the woman advised as she walked back over to the open kitchen. She took a seat at the small island that acted as a breakfast table as much as a cooking surface.

“I’m saying nothing I wouldn’t say to him or to King Regis, mother,” the teenager advised.

“They allow you to be so casual?” Mala Scientia asked, frowning.

“Yes, though I rarely take advantage of it,” he replied. “I _do_ remember my training.”

“I didn’t mean that, love,” she insisted. She watched him as he went to start tending to noodles he’d just finished making by hand, to prepare plates for them both. “I’m just surprised that any royalty would be fine with that sort of commentary.”

“You’ve been under the Empire’s hand for far too long,” Ignis pointed out. “I hear their emperor is a humorless man. Of course that lack of tolerance would spread throughout the hierarchy. I serve not only as attendant and steward to Prince Noctis, but as a companion.”

“By all accounts, it sounds like he views you more as a parent.”

“A fair assessment, but all the more reason why he can tolerate bluntness. He would rather a blunt truth than to be lied and pandered to,” he explained.

He carried a plate of noodles, topped with a white sauce, to Mala and then added a small breadplate that contained garlic bread. She smiled and said, “Thank you, my little love.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” he said, going to prepare his own plates.

“By scent alone, I’m positive I will,” she assured.

She didn’t eat right away, however, watching Ignis. He could feel her gaze before he saw it. The only thing he couldn’t feel was _why_ she was watching him. Was it pride? Disappointment? Curiosity?

The last time he saw his mother, he was twelve. It wasn’t easy to travel from Tenebrae to Lucis, and it was even more difficult to travel from Lucis to Tenebrae. Even communicating through writing or phone was difficult. As such, she was more stranger than family to Ignis, but he did still love her all the same. He just… wondered if it would feel different if he knew her better.

“Have you something you’d like to ask?” he questioned as he finished making up his plates and went to join her at the bar seating.

“I was just thinking about how much you look like your father now,” she said. “Though you’re much more mature than he was at your age.”

“How is he?” Ignis asked. He didn’t want to focus on himself if he could help it. Not that personally, anyway.

“He’s well, considering.”

Ignis nodded with an acknowledging hum, taking to eating with all the well-trained manners instilled in him.

The entire reason that Mala hadn’t gone with him after he was chosen to be the steward to Prince Noctis was because of his father being diagnosed with an illness that the doctors of Tenebrae had managed to hold back through the years, until the Empire took hold. While his parents weren’t purged like so much of the adult nobility, the doctors in charge of his care were forcibly shipped to Gralea to work there, leaving him in the care of doctors of far less quality. They held off the inevitable, but not as well as the original doctors.

Ignis’s safety in Insomnia seemed to satisfy them enough that they didn’t attempt to both travel, as that would most certainly kill his father.

“Do you know how long he has?”

“I’m afraid not, Ignis,” Mala replied, somber. “He could last another ten years, or he could pass whilst I’m visiting you. The risk is worth it, though. I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” She reached over to gently pet at Ignis’s hair, and he allowed her to do so without much reaction. “We’re so proud of you, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“I know it’s so unfair to not have us here with you…”

“I’d prefer you away to give him the best chance to live and possibly see a cure, than for him to die before they even come close to discovering one,” Ignis replied. He looked over to her. “I’ve had plenty of people here caring for me,” he assured. “Kind people.” Not that he would discuss if he had anyone cruel in charge of him. It did no good to mention it to his mother. She felt enough guilt as it was.

“I see.” Mala looked around at the studio apartment then, clearly deciding a change of subject was good at that point. Ignis stayed quiet as she did what was ultimately her ninth or tenth sweep of his abode. “Do they pay you well as steward?”

“Of course they do.”

“Then why don’t you have a larger place to live?”

“I don’t want a larger place to live. This is the right size for the things I do. I’m barely here.”

“Don’t you ever entertain guests?”

“I haven’t the time for such time-wasters, mother.”

“You ought be careful, my son,” Mala said, frowning at him. He lifted his head and looked at her. “It doesn’t feel it right now, but as you get older, you begin to realize how fast time is passing you by,” she explained softly. “When you’re young, a year takes an eternity to complete. In time, however, you will blink, and half a decade will have escaped you, and you’ll not have any life of your own to speak of. You’re a smart, handsome boy. You’re educated, well-mannered and strong. There is no reason for you to not be able to go on a date or two. You’ve said it yourself: Prince Noctis doesn’t want you catering to him constantly. You mustn’t allow yourself to regret how you spent these years of your life.”

Ignis stared at Mala, unreadable. While he understood her position, he wished she would understand his. If he wasn’t tending to Noctis, he was tending to Noctis’s affairs. The boy had no interest in politics, so Ignis had to sit in on the meetings Noctis should have been going to himself, representing him and acting as messenger. That took an incredible amount of time, and that was ignoring the fact that he had combat training, and his own schooling. While he was out of the formal structure of schooling for practical knowledge, having been raised in a tighter course that never ceased so he could finish much earlier than if he attended traditional school, there was still so much to learn about being an advisor, confidant, strategist and steward.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, looking back to his plate. “Thank you for the concern.”

Mala sighed quietly and looked back to her own plate. “Do you spend much time at the Citadel, then?”

“Not as much since moving to be closer to Noct—Prince Noctis.”

His mother seemed to catch that slip of the tongue, but outside of a brief glance, she didn’t react. “You must have quite the clearance there?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss my clearances, even with you, mother,” Ignis replied without skipping a beat. “It’s nothing against you personally.”

“No, I understand,” Mala said with a strained smile. “I just… hm. I’m sorry.”

Ignis drew quiet and didn’t respond.

He loved his mother, but she and his father both felt like such strangers. He was eight when he was taken from them in Tenebrae, to move to Insomnia and start bonding with Prince Noctis. Then he had her for two weeks when he was twelve, and he had her then for a week. Nothing showed how oppressive time and the Empire was than seeing someone in snapshots over the course of nearly a decade. She wore his mother’s face, she spoke like his mother, but there was just… something so foreign about her. Like she was a stranger wearing the skin of his mother.

If there was ever a time that he wished Noctis would accidentally blow up his wash machine and call for help, it was honestly during that dinner. Considering that was the first dinner during Mala’s stay… that wasn’t setting a very good precedent.

Perhaps he could send out a plea to Noctis to have an ‘emergency’? Noctis was always a mischievous boy, and that would be one meaningful greenlight to get up to no good if Ignis did ask.

Though, Ignis was immediately realizing Noctis wasn’t above throwing himself off his apartment building for laughs and breaking something, just to give Ignis a ‘real emergency’.

He’d just have to deal with the discomfort and pray whoever of the Six would listen that the discomfort would go away soon.


	4. What I Have Left [Noctis]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes family really isn't about who shares your blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings apply.

“Let’s have a talk.”

“…yeah, okay.”

It was shortly after reaching Maldacio HQ that Cor Leonis showed up for what initially seemed like a short stop before he moved on. Ignis had gone across the way from the camper they rented there to do some shopping, Gladio had gone to talk shop with the arms dealers, and Prompto was flitting about, taking pictures of everything and everyone, leaving Noctis to his own thoughts. He’d noticed Cor’s arrival, but didn’t try to greet him. He’d gone briefly to Ignis, before returning over to Noctis and having a seat.

“The boys say you’ve been getting a little distant lately.”

“I don’t know about that.” Noctis shrugged as he said it, but he was lying. The more they fought the Empire, and they longer it took them to get to Altissia, the less Noctis felt like he had any control on the situation. He got lost in his head a lot more lately, and he supposed that would easily translate to feeling like he’d pulled away from everyone. It didn’t matter, though, did it? They had things they were working through, too, and no one was prone to talking it out in that group. Prompto was the most likely, but he had just gotten into a mode of trying to make everyone’s life a little easier by goofing and joking. Which was fine, but that was better received by Gladio and Ignis at that point. Noctis was ambivalent to it and everything else in their group dynamics, increasingly so lately.

It was why he ended up just sitting there while the others went off to do whatever interested them. There _was_ nothing that interested Noctis.

“Monica’s been in talks with Ignis since last night about what a good farewell dinner would be for you,” Cor said after allowing a little silence to fall between them.

“That’s… not really necessary,” Noctis said with a small frown and uncomfortable shift in his seat.

“It’s important to the both of them.”

“It’s not though. Maybe they can focus on making something for, I dunno, Gladio or Prompto.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you should be grateful for the generosity.”

“I didn’t say I’m not grateful.”

Cor glanced at Noctis, who had his eyes firmly set to staring at the ground. His hands were folded in his lap, clasped so tight that his knuckles were white. It made the marshal sigh a bit. “Regis never complained.”

“I didn’t realize I’m complaining,” Noctis replied at that, his voice tensing.

“Neither did I.” That made Noctis finally look at him, baffled. “It’s okay to let people pay attention to you. I know you think that’s all your life has been up to this point, because sometimes it has been. But you’ve always leaned away from all of it. I think Ignis is the only person I’ve seen you allow to do such things. Maybe because you grew up with him.”

“I grew up with Gladio, too.”

“Not for as long. But even then, you’ve leaned away when it’s gotten too much. You have a line. I’m not honestly sure what that line is, but it’s there.” Cor leaned forward, to rest his elbows on his knees. “Do you have any idea how much that wedding meant to the people? How much it still does?”

Noctis let out an exasperated sigh, and let his eyes fall again.

“It means everything. In this black world, they will get to see light in two young people who will shape this world to a better day start to forge ahead together. The knowledge that the Chosen King and his Oracle will be one as they march ahead to bring light to the world and rid the planet of the daemons is, in many cases, the only hope people have left. The Oracle is a beacon of peace and love, and the Chosen King, although his face has remained hidden for so long, is the strength and power they need to know exists.”

“Right…” Noctis murmured. He didn’t get what Cor was getting at, so he hoped that would become evident if he didn’t say too much.

“And those close to you, you are not only all that, but you are their friend. Their family. You used to see that, until your life was changed twelve years ago. The cloud that exists over you now is one that anyone who knew you before can see to this day. Those briefest of moments, when you show who you really are, are everything to them. When you smile and laugh, when you joke around and engage with the world. To want to see another in that way isn’t because you’re a prince, or a king. It’s because you’re _family_. Just because your father has left us, that doesn’t mean you’re without.”

Noctis let out another sigh, but that time, it was softer. Still, he remained silent, to allow Cor to continue.

“I’m not saying this because I want you to change. To slap on a fake smile, to grin and bear things you don’t like all the time. What I _am_ saying, however, is that it wouldn’t hurt to allow them to do things like make a nice dinner before your departure. Allowing those who love you to dote on you will make them smile. Spending time with them, even if you’re not the most enthusiastic, means the world. Do you get it?”

“So… ‘let them make you dinner, asshole, and stop sitting like an emo in the corner’?” Noctis asked.

Cor smirked and patted Noctis on the back as he went to stand. He said nothing as he started to walk away, feeling his point was proven. Noctis took in a deep breath, and went to stand. “Right,” he murmured.

Crossing the road that ran through the cave housing Meldacio, he went straight for where he knew Ignis was.

Sure enough, in the small corner store-like business, Ignis was perusing the impressively large stock for such a small store, a can of Ebony in hand. He was so lost in his thoughts that he actually jolted when Noctis walked over and plucked the can out of his hand for a drink.

“Deciding to have a walk?” Ignis asked, reclaiming the can once Noctis was done.

“Figured you’d need help carrying the groceries since you haven’t moved to injecting your caffeine yet,” Noctis retorted as he looked around. “What’re you trying to get?”

“They’ve much finer ingredients derived from the wildlife here than at other locations, thanks to the traffic of hunters looking to profit off of splendid cuts. I’ve gotten some jabberwock tenderloins, but I’m looking for proper side dishes.”

“I could use some mac and cheese,” Noctis remarked.

“Will you eat it if I put a few vegetables into the cheese covering?” Ignis asked, studying him closely.

Noctis scrunched up his nose, but said, “Only if I can’t actually taste ‘em.”

“Of course.”

“Fiiiine,” Noctis said with a sigh. It’d make Ignis happy, and he actually was really good at making it so Noctis couldn’t actually taste vegetables, so he didn’t mind eating them. “Hey, I’ll pay for all of this stuff, by the way.”

“Oh, I was already depending on that,” Ignis said in that vaguely playful tone he tended to take on.

Noctis’s eyes went wide, and he reached back to his wallet. Or, in that case, the pocket that was supposed to contain his wallet. “What the—you son of a bitch!”

“Consider it fair play for the incident the other day regarding my lance,” Ignis said, completely unapologetic. “Which I am compelled to remind you, yet again, is not to be used for recreational pole vaulting over the Regalia, dare or not.”

“I have a bunch of traitors around me,” Noctis fussed. He, most notably, wasn’t asking for his wallet back.

“Ah, but is it treachery when we do it for your own good?” Noctis rolled his eyes, and started for the exit. “I thought you were going to help, Noct?”

“Traitors carry their own groceries,” Noctis replied, turning at the door and giving Ignis a sarcastic bow. “Have fun~”

The farewell had Ignis chuckling as Noctis stepped back outside, and headed back across the road again, farther from the camper, to catch up to Gladiolus. His back was towards Noctis as he spoke to someone, and Noctis was just going to butt in like he had good sense.

He stopped when a woman’s hand touched Gladio’s bicep, and a rapid giggle broke out on the other side of the giant man. Noctis immediately threw up his hands and backed away, a couple of hunters looking on to the side laughing out and nodding their heads in sympathetic agreement. Don’t get in the way of a gigantoid flirting with women.

Moving on for Prompto, it took a short while to get to him, as he was at the other side of Maldacio, snapping pictures of the guards there, and of the area beyond. He was really engrossed with what he was doing, so Noctis just went to stand beside him, arms folded, until he noticed him.

It was a few minutes before Prompto turned to head back, and yelped when he saw Noctis _right there_. “Whoa! Hey, buddy!”

“Got some good shots?” Noctis asked.

“I sure hope so!” Prompto replied. “Got a few of all of you.”

“Cor, too?” Noctis asked as he started to walk, Prompto trotting along with him.

“Cor? Cor’s here?” Prompto asked, wide-eyed. He looked around everywhere ahead of them, since the line of sight was pretty simple, straight through to the other side.

Noctis lifted an eyebrow and looked around to point him out to Prompto. Gladio was still talking with that lady hunter, and Ignis had made his way to the camper with everything he’d purchased. Thinking about it, he didn’t actually see where Cor went to after seeing him heading to Gladio.

Did he just have a word with the Shield and then fly off again, into the sunset?

Deciding that had to be it, he shrugged. “He _was_. Guess he just stopped in to talk with me and Gladio and headed out again.”

“Huh… That’s too bad, dude, because I would’ve totally gotten some pics of the Marshal himself!” Prompto said, passive about everything as always.

“Maybe next time, right?”

“Right!”

Noctis smirked a bit and continued on with Prompto, committed to trying to be at least a little more engaged with his friends again.

He wasn’t prepared for the moment, when he asked Gladio later about what he and Cor spoke about, for Gladio to look at him as though he was crazy. That he also hadn’t see Cor, and that apparently no one had.

What in the hell did any of _that_ mean?


End file.
